


Gods of the Grove Part three: The Priestesses

by Duchess_Of_Dumpsters



Series: Gay Gods [3]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Permanent Death AU, Pining, Shipping, Wounds, injuries, uselessly gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters/pseuds/Duchess_Of_Dumpsters
Summary: Three gods watch over the grove and the mountain, heralding the forces of nature they've become bound to. In a time of peace three Priestesses have the chance to learn and grow, but the meddling gods see more in them than the three will admit. A gentle nudge may be all it takes to see something simple come to light.
Relationships: Cleo/False/Stress, False/Cleo/Stress, False/Stress/Cleo, Stress/False/Cleo, Team ZIT - Relationship
Series: Gay Gods [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755094
Comments: 28
Kudos: 60





	Gods of the Grove Part three: The Priestesses

Cool autumn air filtered through the trees, causing the towering pines to sway. False sat on the roof of the temple, watching over the grove in silence. The village had been here long before she was born, and the tales of the gods were older still. Tales of the great stag that watched over the mountain long before any dared settle here, tales of two huntsmen who lived upon the treacherous heights and became gods as well.

These were the tales she’d grown up with, an important part of her life, as she’d grown up in the village, surrounded by the tales. When she’d become old enough she’d gone to the high priestess and asked to become a priestess as well. Gertrude had agreed and False had fallen right into place training beside Stress, who was easily the kindest and most gentle soul alive. Later Cleo had joined them, the literal embodiment of chaos and mischief. False would be lying to herself if she said her heart wasn’t overfilled when the two were around. She’d come to care so much for them since they’d met that it hurt.

She just wished she could find the words to tell them that.

Today was going to be a big day, for her at least, but for the entire clergy in a way. While the High Priestess Gertrude was a priestess to all three patron gods, since there were three priestesses in training it was decided they’d each go into the woods to see which god favored each. False couldn’t escape the worry though, that perhaps none of the three would see her as faithful enough, as devout enough. She was, wasn’t she?

But what if she wasn’t?

She shook her head, standing carefully and making her way to the edge of the roof. Now wasn’t the time for such doubts and she couldn’t let them hold her back, not when such important events were ahead. She hopped down to the ground, kneeling in the neatly kept mountain grass, looking across the garden of the temple. The building wasn’t very old and served mostly as a place for the elderly to bring offerings or for the young to exchange vows. However, all the offerings were gathered up by Gertrude and taken to the true shrine out in the woods. False had been there many times, today was no different in that aspect. She took a steadying breath and headed inside where a handful of the village people had gathered. Her father, the huntsman, Maple the Forgemaster, Gertrude, and of course, Stress and Cleo. Oh, how her heart skipped a beat on seeing her two fellow priestesses in training.

“Are you ready?” Gertrude asked her as she approached and she nodded.

“My heart and mind are steady.”

“Very well. There are those present who wish to speak to you before you go.” Gertrude said, nodding to the others. False nodded, turning only to get pulled into a hug by her father.

“Good luck out there. I’m proud of you.” He said, his tone honest and true. She returned the hug tightly.

“I just hope that pride isn’t misplaced.”

“It isn’t, it never will be.” He said, hugging her a little tighter before letting her go, smiling warmly.

Finally, she turned her attention to the forgemaster, a little surprised by his presence. He presented a sword to her, laid flat on one finger to show its impeccable balance. The blade gleamed, a fine tempered steel, the symbol of the three gods embossed on the ricasso, the crossguard held a simple design of wind, carrying in it tiny maple leaves made of amber. The grip was wrapped in a fine leather and the pommel was a lightly polished chunk of heliodor held by three steel claws.

"This is Wind Singer, the blade forged in honor of the three. May it serve you well." Maple said, smiling as she gently lifted the blade from his hand. He handed her its scabbard as well, the leather embossed to match the crossguard, its locket holding the same symbol of the gods. The simple yet elegant arming sword felt perfect in her hand, like it belonged with her. It felt assuring, in a quiet sort of way.

"Thank you, I shall carry it with pride." She promised before affixing it to her belt with a simple frog. Lastly, but by far not least she paused to address her fellow priestesses in training. The confident smirk on Cleo's face and the warm, beaming smile of Stress made her heart take off like a doe in the spring. And oh what False wouldn't do to spend a lazy spring day laying amid the flowers in the meadow with those two.

“Try not to have too much fun out there without us.” Cleo teased, the feelings her tone summoned drawing a smirk to False’s own face.

“Not possible without either of you.” False assured her.

“Be careful out there.” Stress added, her concern tempered by her own belief in False, at least, as best as False could guess.

“I will be, don’t worry.” False assured and she by no means argued when Stress wrapped her in a hug. A hug that was as warm as the summer winds and as soft as a sheeps wool, by the grace of the gods her heart sang in that embrace.

“Hey don’t leave me out.” Cleo protested, tackling against them to join the hug. Hers was tight, like the grip of someone who knew everything could end in the blink of an eye and would treasure every moment before then.

It was only reluctantly False extracted herself, smiling warmly at the two.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” She assured, hoping that would be the case but fearing it might not.

“You better.” Cleo smirked, her tone was confident though, not having any doubt.

False gave a nod but she couldn’t delay any longer, slipping away and out of the doors of the temple, stepping onto the cobbled road leading into the rest of town. She didn’t stay on it long however, soon turning towards the grove. She walked the familiar path through the woods to the altar that resided there, kneeling to pray. Just as she was lifting her head again, prayer’s finished, she heard a noise, a rustling in the brush. Quickly she looked that way but saw nothing. Not willing to brush off anything on this pilgrimage, she went in the direction of the sound. Peering into the woods she saw a flash of movement, the flash of brilliant orange, like the breath of the sun itself. False dashed to keep up, seeing the creature several times more, always just ahead of her, its graceful form quick as a whip.

Still, False was no layabout, she was light on her feet, sure in her balance. She gave the fox a good chase, even with the steady incline, she kept on it’s fluffy tail. Away it bounded and after it she ran, her heart beginning to race as it led her further and further up the mountain. That was until it broke out into a flower filled clearing, vanishing into the dall grasses. False slowed, taking a moment to look around, feeling perhaps her time followingthe fox was done.

A gentle breeze swept through the clearing, causing the flowers and grasses to sway, carrying with it an equally gentle howl. It was a beautiful call, a welcoming song that stirred her heart, drawing forth a reply of her own. She didn’t even quite think before she gave into the call, howling in response. Her voise rose, rattling through her whole being as it sang the song back in kind. A call too powerful for her alone but drawn from her throat nonetheless. She found herself breathless by it’s end, closing her eyes and taking a moment to catch her breath. When she opened her eyes again though, she saw something new, just past the flowers, at the edge of the trees, she saw a set of wolf legs, thrice the width of the eldest tree in the wood. Looking up, she was met by the glowing gold gaze of a massive wolf, it towered above her and yet, she was not afraid.

“Why do you seek me?” The wolf asked, it’s voice one with the very wind that danced around the meadow.

“I seek to become to your high priestess.” She said, standing straight backed and proud, watching his gaze unwavering. He tilted his head.

“Indeed, but you have sought me out in person, something troubles you.” he noted and her composure cracked ever so slightly.

“Am… I worthy?” She asked.

“You are a valiant young mortal, you’ve as much skill as a fighter as you have love in your heart. As long as you follow your heart true, you are worthy as my high priestess. May your faith carry as a howl on the wind, my favor shall be carried in kind.” He told her simply.

She nodded, bowing. When she lifted her gaze again he was gone, as if he’d never been there. Still, she felt considerably calmer, the doubts in her mind quieted for now. With a wistful smile she turned back towards the village. The High Priestess of the Wolf of the Wind.

\--

Cleo leaned on a fence post, watching the grove in silence. She hadn’t moved from that spot since False had vanished from sight. She couldn’t help being a little tense, it may all be well, it may all be simple… but she also knew how fragile human life was. In her dreams she often saw a bloody scene, it was distorted and hazed, but in it her heart was always in pain. Always wrapped with fear, with denial, with grief. It was unchanging, coming to her once in a rare while, a glemps at the future, shewas sure, but how to handle it she did not know.

The sun was dipping low and her worry was growing when a shock of blonde hair cut through the shadows of the forest. Cleo stood alert, blinking in surprise at how suddenly False had appeared, yet there she was, returning to the village, a confident bounce to her step. Cleo let out a relieved laugh before dashing back into the temple.

“She’s back! She’s back!” She shouted cheerfully, not thinking to keep her voice at a respectful level, nor did she remain for a scolding, darting back out the door to run down the road. She all but tackled False, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I wasn’t gone so long!” False laughed, hugging her tightly in return, her hugs always so strong and protective. They let Cleo feel safe, against all her doubts and worries, when False wrapped her arms around her, Cleo felt like nothing could do her harm.

“I don’t care, I still missed you.” Cleo said softly, not quite willing to let go yet.

“I missed you too.” False assured her and a moment later they were rocked by the force of Stress joining in the hug.

“Welcome back!” Stress said cheerfully, clinging tightly to them both.

“Thank you.” False said warmly, wiggling an arm free to wrap around Stress as well.

“Did it go well?” Stress asked and Cleo was glad for her to keep the conversation going, leaving False too distractedto end the hug.

“Indeed, The Wolf of the Wind has accepted me.” She said happily, her voice having a certain ring to it when she was so cheerful and it made Cleo’s heart do a little something.

“I’m so glad.” Stress said, sounding relieved and giving a warm smile.

“I knew you had it in you.” Cleo said, hugging a little tighter before she reluctantly let go. She didn’t want to, but neither did she want to seem clingy. Their banter shifted from there, as False recounted meeting the god, of the brilliance of his fur, the way his voice carried. There was such a reverence to her tone that Cleo found herself in awe, her desire for seeing something more, something beyond their little village itching at her all the worse.

Thus, late that evening, after the excitement had callmed down, after the priestesses had settled in for the night… after the sleepy village had rolled up its streets… Cleo found she could not sleep. She could not find rest, she could not quiet her mind. It was like an itch between the shoulders, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind. There was something, something more, something she needed to find. Clearly it would not be sleep so as silently as she could she slipped from her bed, from her room. The halls were quiet and though the door creaked in protest, it didn’t seem to disturb a single soul. The night was dark, clouds thick above, lazily drifted, only rarely allowing the moon to peak through. That was fine by Cleo though, she could see well enough on her own. Not particularly special, just able to see a little better even at night than most people.

Unabated she walked into the grove, feeling easily as at home amid the trees as back in the village. There was just a deep tranquillity to the wood, a breath of something old, something watchful. This ground was sacred, cared about, tied deeply to the gods themselves. She could feel a depth to it all, it was as if the very trees, the flowers, all of it, sang to her very soul. There was a blissful sort of chaos in it all, the untamed wilderness beyond the village boarder, something she lived for. Her feet carried her towards the alter, whereshe knelt to pray, though she wasn’t quite sure what for. Sure she needed to sleep but that didn’t feel important at the moment.

What she did not expect out in this quiet place, so late at night, was to hear the sound of another person. She had not expected to hear a voice behind her but something about it sent an unpleasant chill up her spine. It was like every blade of grass and every needled leaf tensed at the sound, the grove holding it’s breath.

“Young miss, could you help me?” A man’s voice asked, an unfamiliar voice, it was no one from the village as best she could recall. Slowly she stood, peering over her shoulder at the man. He seemed somewhat unsuspect, his clothes that of some sort of worker, his hair neatly kept.

“What is it you need?” She asked, not certain what to make of him yet but not going to be pegged as a priestess unwilling to aid a stranger.

“I’ve lost something, could you come with me?” He asked, he seemed to be telling the truth but that tension was still wrapping her, like it was warning her. She didn’t have more than a few stray feelings though, and perhaps they were not warning about him, she wasn’t sure yet. So she decided she would remain on her guard, even as she nodded.

The stranger flashed her a bright smile and motioned for her to follow. She fell into step behind him, up the quickly inclining slope of the mountain, one of the sharper rises through the trees that quickly turned to rock, it wasn’t a difficult area to climb, but it was not simple jaunt either. Just as she began to get mildly annoyed at the unusual path, the ground leveled out and they stood on a rocky outcropping, looking out over the village and the grove wrapping around it. The man paused, waiting for her and then took the lead once she was ready to follow once more. Something still seemed off, or odd about him but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Over this way.” He said, walking towards the ledge.

“What is it you lost?” She asked, walking with him but pausing at the edge of the cliff. He didn’t answer her though, drawing her attention back towards him, but he was gone. Confused she turned to see if he’d gone back and for a moment there was nothing there… then suddenly, from nowhere, he was in her face, too pale, eyes wide, mouth split in a snarl.

“MY LIFE!” he roared, her ears ringing from the sound. She instinctively took a step back… but there was nowhere for her foot to land and without any chance to react, she was falling, plummeting to the ground below.

Cleo’s scream tore through the air only to end abruptly as she struck the ground hard. She was left winded, in pain, dazed. Her entire body ached and screamed from force of it all. She could feel a warmth pooling under her back through some of the splitting agony and she realized she must be bleeding.

Despite the lack of stars in the sky, several dozen pinpoints of a faint glow caught her eyes, reds and golds stood out strongly against the night sky, but there were others as well. All strung to paint the shape of antlers, antlers that slowly came into focus, and then soft golden fur and ruby red eyes that gazed down at her wounded form.

“This… isn’t… how I wanted...to meet.” She rasped, cringing against the pain speaking brought her.

“Yet here we are, you were seeking me out, but were misled.” His voice was graceful, radiating down from his form and reverberating through the land itself.

“I… was only… trying to be kind, to a stranger.” She admitted, his golden form blurring for a moment, the world spinning a bit.

“Despite the warnings, you braved forward, too curious, too stubborn. I can appreciate that in a high priestess.” he said, tilting his head a little.

She offered a weak smile, glad she could achive that much before she died, but she was certain that was her fate, that was what was about to befall her. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, her eyes fell closed, that soon followed by a blissful nothingness.

\--

Stress was woken by the angry bleating of sheep, the wooly beasts throwing a fit somewhere outside her window. She rose from her bed, feeling a wave of concern, their behavior was unusual and couldn’t bode well. A deep dread slowly crept into her as she exited her room, intending to check on the animals but spotting Cleo’s door agape. She walked to the doorway, peering in, sure enough, Cleo’s bed lay empty. That creeping dread rushed to wrap her heart, a sinking feeling in her gut. With no more hesitation she bolted, running down the hall and out of the building, picking up speed as she rushed around to the animal pens. She all but crashed into the gate, pulling the latch and letting one of the yelling, antsy creatures loose. She barely got the latch resecured before darting after the wooly creature, following it’s lead down the village streets. Quickly though, they left the buildings behind, running out into the open fields at the foot of the mountain cliffs. Off to the right of Stress the stone rose in a high natural wall, a deep crack running through it, the long collapsed entrance to a cave.

Stress scowled as they approached the area, the place where the greedy had come to try and take the life from the mountain. However as she and the ram neared what it was that had the animal in such a panic she realized the clearing had not seen the end of its bloodshed. There was a sharp pain that ripped through Stress’ heart as her eyes fell apon the scene. A moment where all the world felt it shattered around her, a twist that ripped everything out from under her feet.

“Cleo!” She screamed, her hesitation born of surprise shattered by her own voice. She bolted to Cleo’s side, dropping down beside the wounded young priestess. There was still a rise and fall to the redhead’s chest, but the pool of glistening blood sinking into the ground around her did not bode well. Ever so gently Stress did her best to check for broken bones, but as best she could tell the wounds were entirely in the flesh for landing on the jagged rocks. Ever so carefully Stress took Cleo up in her arms, not the least bit concerned with getting blood on her robes. She was mindful not to make the injuries worse as she turned and headed back for the temple.

Cleo could have been as weightless as a feather for all Stress noticed as she hurried back along the quiet streets. Her jaw set, tears firmly held back from stinging her eyes, despite how deeply the state of the woman in her arms stung her heart. She fought against the fear that gripped at her, like a hot blade being twisted in her chest. Every footfall felt too slow, every moment felt like it took too long, each beat of a weakening heart closer and closer to its end-

No.

She shut the thought down before it could go further, refusing to let herself consider the fate of Cleo before it had come to pass, before she’d done all she could. She paid no heed to the blood dripping to the floor as she pushed her way through the doors of the temple. The halls felt so empty so late at night, with Cleo far, far too quiet in her arms. That too, was brushed aside, fear and worry, pain and tears willfully held back as Stress made her way to a specific room. There she carefully laid Cleo down across a bench facedown. Quickly, quickly Stress grabbed what she needed from the apothecary shelves, like she’d seen Gertrude do time and again for the people of the village. Never had she seen anyone this gravely injured and with that thought she had to shove aside another wave of crippling fear.

Stress set the bottles down in reach then moved to pull Cleo’s bloodsoaked robes away, revealing the bloody mess that was her back. It made Stress’ stomach twist painfully, dread rising but she shoved it aside yet again, keeping cool and calm. She took a jar of water, now gathered from much higher up the mountain and allowed to melt, and gently began washing the wounds, praying as she did so. There was ever so faintly a glow to the water at her words, a hint of light that would have been missed during the day. With the blood cleaned away the wounds didn’t look as bad, though many were still deep and Stress worked fast to get healing ointment and bandages in place before they could start bleeding again.

Cleo was still unconscious by the time she’d tied the last bandage off but it looked like the fellow priestess was resting easier at least. There was less fear as Stress drew Cleo into her arms again, carrying the woman with all the tender, gentle, loving presence she didn’t quite realize she’d possessed until that point. Cleo’s head rested on her shoulder as Stress carried the other back to her room, slow, steady breaths ghosting over Stress’ neck, sending a chill up her spine. Part of her didn’t want to set Cleo down, that same part of her didn’t want to pull her arms away, wanted instead to just hold the wounded woman until she woke again. Stress mentally whacked that side of herself with a broom, what she couldn’t quite stop herself from doing was placing a gentle kiss on the top of Cleo’s head once she’d gotten the woman settled.

Now certain she’d done all she could for Cleo, confident her fellow priestess would be fine given a few days to heal; Stress slipped from the room. She paused in the hallway, mind racing over what had just transpired but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any sleep. Quietly she went back outside, finding the ram from before and guiding him back into the pen. That done she went inside to change robes and clean the apothecary room. Still restless after that she moved on to cleaning the kitchen and beginning breakfast prep. It was just as the sun started to paint the sky gold when she heard someone join her in the room. Turning, she found Gertrude there, the elder priestess smiling knowingly at her.

“You did well last night my dear.” She said, her tone honest and proud.

“I simply did what I needed to.” Stress shrugged, turning her gaze back to the butter and eggs in the pan.

“You listened, you acted without panicking, you took the time needed without wasting a moment. The three smile upon you.”

“May they smile upon Cleo, she needs it more right now.” Stress sighed.

“After breakfast you are going to go get some sleep, the solem and dower of a tired mind does nothing to help you.” Gertrude said firmly and Stress nodded, not willing to argue with the senior priestess.

\--

When Cleo came to it was with a strong hand wrapped about her own, warm sun spilling across her face and the distant sound of the busy village outside her window. Slowly Cleo blinked her eyes open, seeing her own room, curtains drawn back and window open. Fresh mountain air was pleasing to say the least but perhaps more so was the closeness of the form beside her. To Cleo’s left was none other than False, the paladin of a priestess settled in a chair beside Cleo’s bed. Even like this her shoulders were squared and her sword belted at her side, the stoic woman somehow both the picture of the worried friend, as well as the stalwart guardian. Friend… Cleo very sternly pushed that thought in her mind. Friend… the fellow priestess was a friend, no matter how badly she might want to pull the blonde in for a kiss.

She shook her head, chasing the thought away with a mental stick. The movement was more than enough to alert her valiant protector to her state of being though.

“Cleo? You’re awake!” False said, looking up and her face lighting up as she did.

“I mean… that’s what sleeping people normally do isn’t it?” Cleo shot back but she felt her amusement dip when a pained look crossed the other Priestess’ face.

“We’ve all been worried, praying like mad… I’m glad our prayers were answered, it’s good to hear your voice again.” False explained, an uneasy tone edging her voice.

“I… how long was I out?” Cleo asked, little bits and pieces of her last stroll in the grove coming back to her.

“Three days.” False answered quietly.

“O-oh…” Cleo blinked, steadily more details trickling in, the man with the strange feeling, the climb up the cliff…

“What were you doing out there that night? Do you remember what happened?” False asked softly, deep worry in her tone but Cleo did indeed remember and it already sent an unpleasant chill up her spine.

She cast her blankets off, rolling out of her bed and stumbling to her feet.

“Cleo! You need to rest you-” False protested but Cleo cut her off.

“There’s something unholy in the grove, something dark, twisted and angry. It attacked me, but not before preying on my kindness.” Cleo explained, stumbling around the bed but quickly managing to shamble a bit more gracefully.

“You’re certain?” False asked, Cleo could hear the chair clatter to the floor behind her as False stood.

“I wouldn’t make such a claim if I wasn’t.” Cleo stated before making her way out of her room, only barely giving the thought to glance herself and make sure she was decent before leaving the temple all together.

“Cleo!” Stress’ voice carried from the garden that Cleo normally looked after herself, it warmed her heart to know that Stress hadn’t let the patch of flowers go forgotten.

“We need to get to the grove now.” Cleo said in a hurried tone, not giving explanation beyond that, especially with False in toe. Despite her best efforts though, she most certainly wasn’t up to par yet, and she quickly found each of her fellow priestesses looping an arm around one of hers. It took every fiber of her being to force away a blush with the two right there, worried about her. To her relief though, they didn’t argue or try to drag her back to her bed for rest.

No.

They took the pressure off and made the journey into wood much smoother. Soon they stood upon the ground where Cleo had first spotted the man and the hair on the back of her neck rose. The ground felt almost sickly there, putrid and stained. Glancing down the grass was yellowed, sickly and far shorter than everywhere else. It was like a scar on the clearing, the memory of something old and unpleasant.

“It’s here…” Cleo said, taking a step back to extract herself from their grip and knelt down in the grass. Slowly she started pulling at the grass and shifting soil aside. It felt ill, poisoned by mal intent, by rage, by pain. It was like digging into an infected wound, the sickly, aching feeling rising up to coat her all over, making her dizzy at first but she pushed past that. This couldn’t be left to fester any longer.

“What are you looking for?” Stress asked, resting a hand on Cleo’s shoulder.

“Whatever’s poisoning the ground.” Cleo said with a shake of her head, not sure what she would find, at least until her hands brushed across something rough and cold. She cleared a bit more dirt from it, then tugged at it; it lifted more dirt with it and False reached past to take hold of whatever it was and hoist it free. Cleo let Stress help her back to her feet as False shook the dirt from a long abandoned sword. It was tarnished and warped, but still looked to hold an edge. There was a faded gold substance clinging to the blade, powdered but caked on far more than dirt could hope to do. The sword gave free an ominous, threatening feeling, whatever was stuck to it felt more like a seal.

“Whatever we do with that… we can’t wash it.” Stress noted quietly, eyes on the faintly glimmering substance.

“I-” False almost seemed frozen in place, holding the sword by it’s handle, her arm tensed as if in pain.

“Put it down…” Cleo said, panic boiling up.

“I don’t like this sword…” False muttered, sounding half entranced and half delirious with pain.

“False!” Cleo said much more sternly, stepping over to her.

“Here, use this.” Stress said, pushing a bundle of fabric, Stress’ cloak, into her hands. Cleo didn’t hesitate, guarding her hands with the woolen garment and taking hold of the sword. She wrenched it out of False’s grip and the high priestess let out a sharp cry. Even muffled by the cloak, Cleo could feel the sickening hatred leaching from the blade like it intended to seep into her bones.

“We have to find a way to be rid of this… cursed sword.” Cleo said, glancing between the two.

“I… I’ll take it up the mountain…” False started, breaths uneven as she was still quite shaken.

“No you won’t, don’t touch it again.” Cleo argued, firm.

“But I’m the only high pri-” She started to argue but Cleo cut her off.

“No you aren’t, I’m a High Priestess now too, of the God of the Grove himself. This cursed thing was poisoning the ground, it's my responsibili-” but now Cleo was the one getting cut off as Stress gently tugged the bundled sword from her hands.

“I’ll do it. Let me do this, let this be my test to the gods.” She said, her voice calm and reasoning. Cleo wanted to argue, wanted to insist she could handle it, but glancing to False, at the searing ache in her back…

“Be careful.” Cleo said finally, moving to take False’s hands in hers.

“I shall, don’t you worry. Just go back and help Gertrude with dinner and don’t wait up for me.” Stress said, her smile bright and strong, positivity radiating from her very core and seeming to draw out the angry grumblings of the sword in her hands. Cleo nodded, trusting Stress could handle this on her own.

\--

False couldn’t help one more glance over her shoulder as she and Cleo made their way out of the woods. Glancing back at the direction Stress had vanished, deeper into the grove. It wasn’t that she distrusted the other priestess’ capabilities to look after herself, despite how kind and gentle she was, Stress was easily the strongest of the three. Even for all of False’s combat focus, she couldn’t beat Stress in an arm wrestling match. Besides that, after handling the accursed thing False felt weak, there was an undeniable burning pain in her chest, like she’d been stabbed. It had stolen the strength from her limbs, threatened to send her to an early grave… until it had been taken from her grasp. She felt she was leaning as much on Cleo as Cleo was leaning back as they walked together back to the village.

Steadily though, by grace of gentle breezes, she was beginning to recover at least. By the time they reached the temple most of the discomfort had faded, though she still felt quite drained. Perhaps Cleo could tell, as the lovely redhead didn’t argue when False guided her back to her bed.

“Don’t push yourself too much.” Cleo cautioned as she laid on her side, looking to be in enough discomfort herself to not want to lay on her back.

“I’ll be cautious, don’t worry.” False smiled, forcing her eyes to stay locked on Cleo’s own and not wander her form… despite how the pose accentuated her natural assets.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Cleo smirked and False chuckled, having to turn away to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Oh how her heart danced at the sight of that smile, she wished she could let herself stare.

She didn’t dare though, instead heading back out of the room and for the main altar room. She stepped up the dias to the altar itself, taking a moment to light the incense around the Ram idol. Since she herself was the high priestess of the Wolf, Cleo of the Deer… that left only the Ram for Stress, though False supposed it fit, by the mannerisms they’d learned of the gods, Stress was most suited to be his High Priestess. With soft, pleasant smelling smoke rising into the air False knelt and prayed for Stress’ safe journey.

\--

Stress did not slow in her ascent up the mountain, nor did she rush. The matter at hand was indeed important, but that too meant she should take her time. Being cautious with something so dangerous, barely keeping it’s hateful bite at bay with a simple woolen cloak. Not that wool was any less than sacred in her book. The heavy woven cloth was stout, holding a quiet hum of living energy, representing the still living and rather pampered beast it had been shorn and spun from. With a little push of will and quiet prayer it was enough to keep the dastardly weapon from harming her.

Each footfall was a sure one, Stress carefully picking her way through the less traveled part of the grove, she was much higher up the mountain than most cared to go. Everyone knew that the upper slopes were the claim of the gods alone. No mortal soul had dared come this far in a very, very long time. Thrice her lifetime at least. Still Stress did not fret, she was not concerned, her heart set on her duty and certain in her intuition in this matter. The sun started to fade, bathing the woods in darkness and still, she had no fear, no worry as she slowed her pace. She wasn’t going to let the depth of shadows of a moonless night cause her to trip or falter.

Wary, but not lost, the lone priestess continued onward unwaveringly, faithfully. There came a rustling a while later and for the first time in hours, she paused, watching the brush in the darkness. It came again and a little red fox stepped into view. It wore a crown of spring flowers upon its fuzzy little head and it’s coat gleamed with a faint glow that no mortal creature had any right to have. It looked to her, then at the path she was taking, then back to her again. Quietly Stress remained still, watching the rather intelligent looking animal before it darted ahead. It stood out in the darkness, pausing to look back at her. Clearly enough, she was meant to follow.

So follow she did, falling into a comfortable step behind the agile fox as it wove a clear path between the trees and up the mountainside. Steadily the trees began to thin and the scent of stew greeted her. It was surprising, but she had not realized just how hungry she was until that aroma met her nose. Finally she came free of the treeline and ahead, uphill, nestled in the back of this fair clearing, was a single little cabin. It was of an older style but looked like it was well kept. Warm lantern light spilled from the windows and lazy smoke trailed up from the chimney. Beside the cabin was a simple shelter where several sheep lay snuggled up, sleeping peacefully. There was no pen, nor did there seem to be any worry of the wolves also dotted around in the grass. Some were awake and watching, others sleeping contentedly.

The fox went directly to the structure however, sitting upon the stone porch and pawing at the door. Stress kept pace as she approached, pausing just at the edge of the stone, watching as the door creaked open, just enough for the little fox. It was clear this was a common moment, the creature spent much time here, if not lived here. The fox poked its head in and stood still, yapping at whoever was inside.

“What is it Cinnabin?” A male voice asked, his voice kind and curious. After a few more yaps, he opened the door fully to look outside.

The man had golden hair that had a similar faint glow to the Fox’s fur, his eyes were a deep purple, not unlike the hue chosen for the clergy’s robes. He had a kind, playful air about him and a bright smile broke across his face when he noticed Stress.

“Oh! A visitor, how wonderful! Please, please, come in! You must be tired from your travels.” He said, starting to step aside but Stress shook her head.

“I wouldn’t dare bring this into your lovely home.” She said, holding the sword up, her hand still protected by the cloak but the blade otherwise visible.

“Oh dear…” He said, stepping outside and to the end of the porch, the glow to him more obvious in the night air.

“It was near the altar, poisoning the ground.” Stress explained.

“That’s not good, I recognize that vile weapon, I thought it’d been destroyed in the same flash of lightning that claimed it’s owner… but evidently not.” He said, his smile dropping to a scowl as he spoke.

“It seemed to harm the Wolf’s High Priestess when she touched it.” Stress informed and he nodded, reaching to gently pluck the cursed sword from her grasp. He took it by the cloak and she watched as the purple dyed fibers flourished to glowing gold in his hands.

“That doesn’t surprise me if I’m honest.” He admitted and with the hateful thing in hand he walked off the porch, heading towards a corner of the cabin where a barrel sat.

“What do you mean?” She asked, following, he paused, holding up the sword and indicating the gold dust clinging to it’s blade.

“That is the Wolf’s blood.” He explained before continuing towards the barrel, opening it once he reached it. It was filled with water and he dropped the sword inside. His words made all the pieces fall into place, the owner being struck by lighting, the blade poisoning the ground, it had been the man who had tried to start a mine, who had tried to burn the village…

Who had tried to kill the Wolf of the Winds.

No wonder it was so cursed.

“We were uncertain the source of the angry spirit that frightened the High Priestess of the Grove off a cliff, it was this.” He said, raising a hand over the water, it began to glow brightly and the sword hissed as if it had been white hot.

“So that’s what happened… you can cleanse it though? So no one else gets hurt?” She asked, looking up at his concern filled purple eyes.

“We will do what we can, this is unusual but unusual problems sometimes require unusual solutions and I have quite a lot of fun coming up with those.” He said, lifting his head to meet her gaze and smiling once he did.

“Good, I knew not what else to do.” She admitted and he nodded.

“You did well, the mark of a fine High Priestess if I do say so myself.” He chuckled.

“You think so?” She perked up a bit at the phrase.

“Of course! You were impressive, determined! If only I could guess which god you chose to devote yourself to.” He said thoughtfully.

“You’re the Ram aren’t you?” She asked after a moment and his eyes lit with a flash of amusement.

“I am indeed, you’re clever as well.”

“Would think I’d have to be to be worthy of the River Ram. What say you, am I fit to fill the position?” She asked with a smirk and he let out a delighted laugh.

“Of course!”

“It will be my honor.” She said with a bow and when she rose again he motioned for her to follow before leading the way back to the door of the cabin. She fell into step behind him comfortably, over the moon at finding the god not only in person but in the more mortal form Gertrude had told about.

She did not pass up the invitation to enter the house again, stepping inside and glancing around, it warmed her heart to see the humble building adorned with gifts from her village, including a somewhat haphazardly woven tapestry hung on the wall. Glancing up the ceiling was painted like a night sky, there were dozens and dozens of beryl stones hung by thin thread, catching and scattering the light.

“Don’t be shy, pull up a seat I’ll get you some stew.” He said with a wave of his hand and she did so, settling at the table. It looked old but well cared for, it felt like it, along with the rest of the cabin, had quite the tale to tell.

“Thank you, normally that is what I say.” She admitted with a warm laugh.

“Then I can think of no one better to represent me.” He said with a nod before setting a bowl of stew down before her.

“Thank you. Do… gods need to eat?” She asked curiously, digging in while he gave an answer.

“No, but it’s still enjoyable from time to time. The same can be said of sleep, it isn’t needed but it’s nice now and again.” He explained, sitting on the counter.

She couldn’t find the attention to ask another question as her focus fell fully to the food at hand. It was easily the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten and already she found herself picking apart the tastes to try and guess the herbs and spices used, vegetables and meat easy enough to guess but could she recreate it? She’d most definitely try, she decided. She only vaguely registered the sound of other voices joining the room but once the bowl was empty and her belly was full she did look up again.

No longer was it just the River Ram but now the other two gods had come home it seemed, the Wolf of the Wind leaned on the counter where the Ram still sat. The god of the Grove himself, antlers proud and adorned with stones like those hanging above, he stood comfortably, a happy smile filling his features. Stress had not caught the conversation before this point but what did draw her attention was the comfortable, loving air between the three. She couldn’t help the quiet pang in her heart, of how it wished she could find similar such moments with Cleo and False. Thoughts of home pulled at her tired mind, accompanied by the warm and full feelings as well. She couldn’t stifle a yawn.

“You should rest, you’ll be home come morning.” The River Ram said and False nodded, her eyelids growing heavy…

She didn’t remember laying down, but she must have. Her dreams had been filled with a feeling of being carried high above the trees, on a woolen cloud. The stars above twinkling and dancing, it was an awe filled wonderment that she would not likely forget, even as reality trickled back in with morning light.

Stress was slow to wake but when she did she was in her own bed back at the temple. For a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream, however when she sat up and looked around she realized her window was open… and the room was filled with snow. When she scooped some of it up to hold in her hand, she found it would not melt. Blessed snow. A gift from the River Ram, after all, he governed more than just rivers, lakes, ice and snowfall were his domain as well.

With a bright smile she sprang from her bed, excited to tell her fellow priestesses that she too, now, was a high priestess.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes a friend of mine was a cameo in the beginning, no I do not take criticism on the matter lol.
> 
> Here we have it, the beginning of another part in the gay gods series, I may be a bit slow updating, I may not, irl things are chaotic but here we are. I appreciate all of you for baring with me and tysm for commenting, I really really enjoy that too!


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